Midas he wasn’t, not for trying of course. It was always the help’s fault. If only they adhered to his rules. Mr. Bank had a strict set of rules for his employees. It didn’t matter he had only four, doing the jobs of twenty. It was all about the profits.

Mr. Bank liked money, especially coins–gold, silver, even copper, he loved the feel of them in his fingers. He often sat in his study after the day was done, holding them, examining them closely to make sure they were ligitimate. He collected coins, marvelling over the different designs of monies from all over the world.

This evening, as he contemplated his small collection from the day’s till, Mr. Bank decided it was time for change.


Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #99

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